


Love and Liberty Outtakes

by zade



Series: kinktober 2017 (oh god why) [5]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Anxiety, Bondage, Collars, Gags, Ice Play, M/M, Non-Sexual Bondage, Non-Sexual Kink, Orgasm Denial, Praise Kink, Scars, Sensory Deprivation, Temperature Play, brain freeze as kink, chapter two has:, im inventing kinks here y'all, mostly just a really loving relationship tbh, punishment unrelated to any relationship shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-01-21 18:01:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12462969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zade/pseuds/zade
Summary: this is the place i'm going to put all the ficlets for love and liberty that don't really fit with that series entirely!





	1. Day 22: Scars and Collars

**Author's Note:**

> i am really tired so tired i cannot proofread this, hopefully it's fine <3
> 
> contains: anxiety/depression, R having scars, non-sexual kink, collars, hand-feeding , whoops and praise kink

It starts with a self portrait. Grantaire is feeling himself in the best way, so he starts out painting himself with carefully practiced detachment. He’s not really seeing himself, painting lines and shapes and creating himself without really looking at himself. He’s gotten pretty far along before he looks and actually sees himself. He sees the pock-marks and the stretch marks and the scars on his arms and thighs and he suddenly regrets the picture.

He stops, abruptly, leaving his paints and brushes out, even though it will ruin his brushes and even though Enjolras hates it when he leaves his painting supplies around. Grantaire throws on some sweatpants and a t-shirt and sits down on the bed and tries to make his chest stop aching.

He’s not sure what makes Enjolras like him. He doesn’t like himself that much, not his personality or how he looks or anything, really, but Enjolras does, and on his worst days he wonders if he tricked Enjolras into it somehow. He’s got more scars than anyone else he knows—how can Enjolras love him, when his whole body is covered in marks. He sits on the bed and he waits for something to make sense.

When Enjolras comes home, Grantaire hasn’t moved in hours. Enjolras takes one look at him and then wraps Grantaire in his arms, because he is so good and sweet, and Grantaire starts crying all at once, overwhelmed and guilty and undeserving.

“Do you want to talk?” Enjolras asks him after a moment. Grantaire shakes his head, he wants to never have to talk again. “You want to cuddle?” Grantaire shrugs. “I need you to tell me what you do want.”

Grantaire tries to make his words work, but they’re jumbled because he can’t even do that right. “Make it go away?” he says, finally, which he realizes isn’t that helpful. Luckily, he’s messed up enough that they’ve done this before, and Enjolras figures it out quickly.

“You want to do a scene?” he asks, tone measured and carefully free of anything resembling his feelings on the matter. If he sounded too eager, Grantaire would feel guilty, clearly proof that he was neglecting his boyfriend, but if he sounded uninterested, Grantaire would feel just as guilty, for forcing his boyfriend to meet his weird needs. Enjolras’s carefully chosen neutrality is, like everything else he does for Grantaire, a gift, and one he’s not sure he deserves.

Grantaire nods. “I don’t want you to have to look at me, though.”

“I like looking at you,” Enjolras tells him fiercely, and kisses his cheek. “But that’s okay. Should I get you your collar? Do you want to be mine, now?”

Grantaire nods, still a little overwhelmed and listless. Enjolras leaves him for a second and comes back with a collar and two cuffs and Grantaire sits still as Enjolras kisses his face and fastens them around him.

A calm settles over him and he smiles at Enjolras, guilty and grateful on more even ground. Enjolras curls a finger around the D-ring at the front of the collar and pulls Grantaire into a filthy kiss, holding him close and wrecking Grantaire with his teeth and tongue.

He pulls away smiling like the cat that got the cream, which Grantaire thinks is silly, because how could anything Enjolras has compare to the fact the Grantaire somehow has him?

“Have you eaten?” Enjolras asks him. Grantaire thinks about lying, because he doesn’t that smile to leave Enjolras’s face, but eventually he shakes his head slowly. “Thank you for telling the truth for me,” he says, and Grantaire feels dizzy with gratitude.

He stands, rising like something regal, and Grantaire follows his lead, cowed a little before his Apollo, like he is on his bad days, but Enjolras turns around at the doorway, smiling, waiting for him, and Enjolras leads him out into the living room. 

Enjolras hauls him in by the D-ring again. “Would you like to lie next to me, or kneel?”

Grantaire considers. Cuddling with Enjolras would be nicer, but he feels like he hasn’t earned it, like accepting that is taking the easy way out. “Kneel, sir.”

Enjolras kisses him fiercely, face still carefully impassive. “You’re perfect, R, you’re being so good for me,” he says softly, but as full of passion as he is with everything else. He puts a pillow on the floor next to Enjolras’s favorite part of the couch. “Turn about.” Grantaire does so, and Enjolras guides Grantaire’s arms behind him, clipping the cuffs together with a carabineer. “Kneel up for me. I’m going to the kitchen but I’ll be back in two minutes. Do you need me to keep speaking, or will you be okay on your own?”

A tiny spike of desperation coalesces in Grantaire’s throat. “Speaking, please, sir.” He can’t imagine the silence, having to kneel by himself, with himself, with only his own thoughts? Unthinkable. 

Enjolras leads him over to the pillow, kisses him senselessly, and uses Grantaire’s moment of fuzziness to push him down onto his knees. “Good boy,” he says, like it’s fact, and for Enjolras, Grantaire wishes it to be so. “Stay right here for me. I’ll keep talking.”

He does. Grantaire kneels on the pillow with his arms comfortably bound behind him, as Enjolras does something in the kitchen and tells Grantaire about his classes that day. It’s soothing, listening to Enjolras talk, knowing that Enjolras is willing to rehash an entire days worth of class because Grantaire doesn’t want the silence.

He returns with a plate of something that Grantaire can’t see from his vantage point, and sits on the couch behind Grantaire. He immediately buries a hand in Grantaire’s hair as he settles himself on the couch, and Grantaire leans into his hand.

“So now my professor expects a second paper for me to explain my reasoning.” Grantaire nods, having not internalized most of what Enjolras has said, but understanding enough. Enjolras tugs his head back fair enough that Grantaire can see his face. “I brought some food out. Are you going to be good for me and eat something?”

Grantaire doesn’t want to be eating , but he does want to be good, and there’s an empty pit in his stomach, which is maybe hunger, so he nods, then says, “Please may I have some food, sir.”

“Of course, love.” Enjolras presses something to his lips and Grantaire opens them obediently to receive it. Enjolras hand feeds him little pieces of cheese and apples and crackers. He kneels, quiet and still, and lets Enjolras stroke his hair and feed him food and tell him how good he is. He drifts further, aware only of the fact he’s kneeling and of Enjolras’s voice.

It takes a while before Grantaire feels balanced again, and more like himself. He surfaces slowly, and as if from very far away. “Hi, sir.” Enjolras stops reading, and Grantaire realizes that Enjolras has been reading him his civics book. “Really, sir? Really?”

Enjolras laughs, tugging rougher on Grantaire’s curls. “I ran out of things to say. How are you feeling?”

Grantaire shrugs, awkward with his arms bound behind him. “More myself. Sorry to spring this on you.” And he is. He feels guilty for needing this, guilty for not being able to articulate it well in the moment, and still sort of out of sorts from earlier.

Enjolras leans forward and kisses him on the head. “No apologies. Want more floor time?”

Grantaire shakes his head. “No, sir. Want to make it up to you.” He feels terrible at the time that Enjolras has spent hand feeding him and coddling him, when he no doubt had more important things to do.

Enjolras frowns. “What sort of thing did you have in mind?”

“You could fuck me,” Grantaire suggests, turning slightly on the pillow so he can see Enjolras more clearly. “Or belt me, that’d be fun too, sir.”

Enjolras shakes his head. “You said no nudity, and now is not a good time to try mid-scene re-negotiations. How about instead you join me on the couch and we cuddle, and I remind you how much I love you?”

Grantaire’s chest starts aching, a little spasms that he’s slowly becoming accustomed to, because it seems to be emblematic of his relationship with Enjolras. “Will you get anything out of it, sir?” Grantaire asks after a long moment, because he can’t bring himself to agree to more comfort unless Enjolras wants it, too.

“Of course.” Enjolras helps him slowly to his feet, then helps Grantaire lie down, more or less on top of him. “I get the knowledge that I’ve helped you, the reassurance that you’re feeling better, the satisfaction from taking care of you, and also cuddles with you squirming and tied up.”

Grantaire flushes, hiding his face in Enjolras’s neck. He lies there for a little while longer before he finally says, “I was working on a self portrait, and I got overwhelmed by my scars, and couldn’t see how anyone could love me.”

“I am lucky to love you,” Enjolras says, and Grantaire can’t really think of anything to say to that, so he lies there, and focuses on how happy he is have Enjolras.


	2. Day Three: Sensory Deprivation and Temperature Play

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is REALLY FUCKING WEIRD
> 
> this chapter contains: sensory deprivation, ice play, gags, orgams denial, punishment (see below)
> 
> the punishment in this chapter is suggested by r for something outside of his relationship with enjolras in order to get closure about something, and is not enjolras suggesting punishment
> 
> please appreciate how much fucking brain freeze i gave myself while writing this

They don't do this often, because their sex life is about doing enjoyably painful things, not because Grantaire wants Enjolras to exert control over his day-to-day. Their kink stays mostly in the bedroom, unless it's called upon to help one or other (usually Grantaire, to his endless embarrassment) get out of his head, but very, very occasionally, Grantaire asks Enjolras to punish him.

He fucked up a flyer for Courfeyrac, and Courfeyrac had seemed a little bummed—not angry or even really upset—but Grantaire hadn't been able to shake the feeling that he was useless and had disappointed for days.

When he had asked Enjolras, Enjolras had looked at him for a long minute, probably gauging Grantaire's mood, but Grantaire couldn't help but feel like it was judgment and squirmed. Another mark against him. When Enjolras had nodded, and said, “Okay,” it was like a weight had lifted. Enjolras's face had hardened into his dom face, which he claimed he didn't have but absolutely did. “We do this, and then you're absolved from any perceived wrongdoing, and there will be no more consequences for it, even if you decide you later want them.”

Grantaire had nodded eagerly, anxious for absolution.

Kneeling on the floor completely cut off from his senses, Grantaire didn't exactly regret his decision, but it was a near thing. Enjolras binds his ankles to his thighs, binds his arms from wrist to shoulders in coils of rope, a makeshift armbinder that strains his shoulders tight, before plugging his ears and covering his eyes, finally stretching Grantaire’s mouth open with a ratchet gag.

It’s uncomfortable, but the kind of low-level discomfort that builds over time, the sort he’s used to in a scene, but not a punishment scene. He can’t tell where Enjolras is with his senses all turned down, but he can’t imagine how this scene is going to play out.

He feels a faint vibration on the floor, thinks maybe Enjolras is nearby, and Grantaire gets harder, harder than he was anyway from just the bondage. Punishment or no, Grantaire knows what he likes.

He feels Enjolras’s finger in his mouth before he feels anything else, and all but jumps when he realizes it’s cold. There’s something cold in his mouth, and when he feels a drop of cold water, he realizes it must be ice, but with his mouth prized so wide the ice isn’t touching anything. He takes a shaky breath, then the ice is pressed firmly into his soft palate.

He starts, makes a confused noise, but Enjolras doesn’t do anything else but press the ice to the roof of his mouth. The cold spreads, and then suddenly, it’s excruciating, brain freeze settling into his whole head and it feels like every muscle in his head must be tensing.

He yells, but Enjolras holds it there until it’s just a sliver, and Grantaire is screaming and shaking in his bonds. He feels rigid with pain, head tensed and aching and s fucking cold. He’s completely soft by the time the ice is gone, but Enjolras uses his cold hand to stroke Grantaire back to hardness. It takes awhile, because Grantaire’s head is still spasming with tense pain, but Enjolras gets him leaking again, before his hand disappears, and Grantaire is familiar enough with Enjolras’s domming style to suspect this is all going to happen again.

The second time with the ice is harder, even though Grantaire is suspecting it. He tries to get his arms out of their bindings, despite knowing that Enjolras is way too good a rigger for that, but the pain is bad, not the type of pain that Grantaire has ever willingly subjected himself to before, and he’d be awed by Enjolras’s ingenuity if he wasn’t currently suffering for it.

His eyes ache, his teeth in agony despite the fact that the ice isn’t even touching them. His shoulders and legs hurt from straining against the rope, and the ice fucking burns.

Enjolras repeats the cycle three times, finally icing Grantaire’s cock down. He takes the blindfold and gag and earplugs off, but doesn’t release Grantaire. He has a cup of room temperature water for him, and he lets Grantaire flop on top of him as he tilts the cup into Grantaire’s mouth, still bound head to toe. “That’s it. You did it, you took it, you’re forgive now, okay?” He waits until Grantaire nods before continuing. “You good to be untied, or you need a few minutes?”

“Few minutes,” Grantaire says hoarsely, and Enjolras chuckles, running his fingers Grantaire’s hair as he feeds him more water.

“All right,” he says gently. “As long as you need.”

Grantaire worms his way deeper into Enjolras’s arms. He feels a little better, a little less like he’s coming out of his skin. He can’t be that much of a disappointment after taking what Enjolras dished out. “Thanks, sir,” he says, wiggling forward so his mouth is resting over Enjolras’s half-hard cock. “Anyway I can convince you to fuck me before I get untied?”

Enjolras laughs again. “I think I can be convinced.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well this certainly happened didn't it. HELLO I AM GABE RACETRACKTHEHIGGINS AND IM INVENTING NEW KINKS

**Author's Note:**

> ilu and i'm tired and good night


End file.
